"Author's" note: don't ask. Just... don't. I swear, I'm not high on anything. These are the ideas I normally have. Which maybe should worry me a bit. Tell me if I should continue this, o if it's better that I just pretend it never happened

Disclaimer: Batman is not mine. Thank God it isn't.

Bruce was not a morning person. Not at all. He wasn't and never had been. especially after one night of patrolling. If he was up before 10am it was because he hadn't slept at all the previous night, not because something or someone woke him. Right now, it was 8.45 in the morning, he went to bed less than two hours ago, either every psychopath/murderer/lunatic in Gotham had decided to destroy the city in this moment or why the hell had Alfred woke him up?!

«I hope you're feeling rested enough, Mr Bruce» Bruce moaned against the pillow and had to remember himself just why he didn't kill people and especially why he couldn't make an exception for his butler «There's some mail for you»

«'uck 'he 'ail Al'ed» Bruce whined, his head still buried in the pillow.

«Language, sir. I just thought you might want to check it since it's destined to Batman» this finally convinced Bruce to look up at Alfred.

«What?» he asked, closing his eyes again. Damn it, who gave the Sun the right of being up in the sky so early?

«I brought it here for you. Do you think you can manage to keep your head out of the covers long enough to read it or should I do it for you?» Bruce scowled and took the letter from Alfred's hand. On the envelope there were only two words, written in bright green ink by someone who really had an awful handwriting. "For Batsy". Bruce suddenly wanted to go back under the pillow. It was too early to deal with Joker, and it couldn't be anyone else than the clown. I mean, no one else called him "Batsy". Also, Joker was the only one of the people who knew his identity whose handwriting was that bad. In the end, Bruce forced himself to open the letter and read its content.

"Dear Brucey, I hope it's not a problem for you to come at my place this evening at say 10? You know, that flat were we had such a wonderful night a week ago? That. I'm sorry, I'll not be able to do such an animated activity :( :( :( :( I have a little problem here, that should start in a while and it'll go away in a week or so so can you come by and lend me some help? I promise I'll make up for it ;)

Joker

P.S. it's nothing dangerous. I think. I just have a strange guy angry at me and he explained exactly what he'll do to me and I really could use some help."

Bruce re-read the letter a couple times, just to be sure he got all the words right (was that "hope" or "laps"? "Hope", probably, but whoever thought the clown how to write did a job even worse of the guy who thought him that explosions are something he shouldn't toy with). In the end, he couldn't help but feel a bit worried. Maybe he should feel more worried, but he was still half-sleeping and Joker got himself in so many troubles he really wasn't surprised. A bit disappointed, also, but if Joker said he couldn't have fun in that way...

«I think I have an appointment for tonight. And, Alfred»

«Yes, Mr Bruce?»

«Just let me sleep until this afternoon, ok? Please» Bruce begged, turning away from that open window, why did he have to leave on a planet orbiting around a star that was so fucking bright?

Bruce was standing outside of the flat. He should go in, but he still wasn't 100% sure it was a good idea to go in there. It wasn't like he'd never been there before - and was that dark stain on the wall because the other time he had shoved Joker against while the man had a light injury on his head, the man had seemed to like it, maybe they could- Bruce stopped that train of thoughts before it was too late. He took a deep breath and entered the apartment.

It was almost empty, save for an old couch that he knew for experience wasn't really that comfortable and a little table. Wait. There was a plant on the table. There hadn't been a plant the last time. He carefully moved towards it, wondering why should Joker bother to put a plant on the table.

«So you are Batman» only Bruce's ninja training kept him from jumping out of his skin when he heard that voice. He turned around. There was an elder man wearing a weird blue, green and pink dress that made Bruce's eyes hurt, with a long grey beard and a cane standing in the doorway. How had he not heard a man walking with a cane.

«Who are you?» he asked.

«It doesn't matter» the man shrugged «It's curious to see how someone who fights crime as passionately as you could be so close to the Joker»

«What did you to him?» Bruce asked, feeling some kind of rage burning inside him. He was not angry at this guy for possibly hurting Joker, he was not, it wasn't like he cared about Joker, it was just sex after all (yes, keep telling yourself that Brucey, maybe if you believe it it'll become true and why one of his conflicted inner voices had started to sound like Joker?).

«He upset me. I just decided to punish him a bit. That man is like an inexhaustible source of energy, as you may know» Bruce should not blush for that comment, but he did «Don't feel embarrassed, son, it's not like I didn't do most of those things myself when I was younger» oh God, this conversation was getting weirder by the second «Anyway, I decided that keeping him completely still for a while should do it. He's there, right now» Bruce turned around, seeing nothing.

«There's only a plant here» he said.

«Exactly» Bruce blinked, turning from the man to the plant to man.

«What?» he asked.

«You heard me. I changed him into a plant. Don't worry, he'll go back to his normal, annoying self in five days. In the meantime, I suggest you search on that awesome thing that is Internet how to take care of it. Goodbye, my friend» there was a sound like a bursting lightbulb and the man disappeared. Bruce was left standing there, blinking like an idiot, wondering if he should send a blood sample to analyze, because there was no fucking way this... this had just happened.

In the end, he managed to turn around and walked towards the plant. It looked healthy, he supposed, in a bright purple pot. He lifted it, hoping no one saw him, and walked out of the place. Luckily he had brought the Tumbler, or he didn't know how he'd go home. He put the plant who used to be Joker on the seat next to his, and after a moment decided to fast the seatbelt around it. Him. The plant was still Joker, so it was better so say him, right? God. It was in moments like this that he wondered why he hadn't stayed in that prison in Tibet.

«So this is what happened» Alfred said, staring at the plant/Joker now on one table at the Manor.

«Yes» Bruce said.

«I suppose I should do some research on how to keep this particular... specie»

«Yeah» Bruce nodded, still feeling like this shouldn't be happening for real or something like that.

«Has anyone saw you?» Alfred asked, turning towards Bruce.

«No, I don't think so» Bruce answered.

«We should find a place to put... him, somewhere people can't see it. Him» Alfred said, correcting himself. Bruce just nodded again. This situation was the most surreal he'd ever been in. His brain needed a break. He just wanted to know why, with all the plants existing in this world, that man had decided to turn Joker in fucking cannabis.